Campaign Embassy Lament | Former GA Senators & Invited Diplomatic Visitors

Severus Barran · Nov 22, 2025

TAGS

Cressida Tolliver

Alexandra Feanor

EMBASSY LAMENT
2

Wexbridge House, Near New Sterandel,
Aegis, Galactic Alliance Territories (903 ABY)

Oh?
Conversation is getting more lively.

Good sign of approaching commencement.

Rubbing at his eyelids, the young Lion realised it was time to appear, at least, a little more sociable, thus bringing his last-minute intel scrawlings to an end, and with it, a resounding conclusion to screen-specific distractions. For what it was worth, all the last-minute preparations had been made, and all with last-minute questions in mind, all that remained was the effort to appear sane throughout the process of the warning. Before, during, and after his advisory caution to the Galaxy, Severus knew he needed to remain beholden to the calm serenity for which he was known already, to keep a calm, collected demeanour, all the way to his appointed landing-paddock.

'Beverage, sir?'
'Hm? Oh, my apologies.... A glass with ice, two bottles of water - and a cup of your house coffee, please.'
'Behaving ourselves, are we?'

The conference-barkeep and his diplomatic counterpart would share a quiet chuckle on the matter, and when the server finally returned with Barran's order, the young Lion would have reason enough to believe the barkeep was doing well to break through the tense nature of the meeting at hand. Even admitting,'You're a credit to your company, by the way. There's a future in this for you-', only to find himself cut short by a cursory, open-hushing palm. It was then, in that moment, that Severus caught the ambitious gleam in the eyes of his counterpart, wordlessly screaming that he was meant for something more than front-of-house service in the hospitality sector.

'This is merely a means to an end, sir. I'll leave it at that.'
'Whatever it is, trust me.... Your end-goal just an eventuality, I can see that.'
'I appreciate that, sir. But anyway - if you need anything else, just wave me over.'

Sharing one last nod of acknowledgement between each other, the barkeep turned to serve another table without so much as another word uttered on the matter, leaving the young Lion to scan his gaze across the room whilst sipping on his still-hot coffee, only then just noticing the Diarchy's delegation. A brief, though gut-wrenching sensation followed, as Barran was only just remembering the orders his father had passed down, and in the Lord Imperator's demand for a moderate presence abroad, Severus realised that the obligation to reach out was purely his own to endeavour. However, the young Lion was raised to adhere with good-mannered decorum, and in good keeping with general civilised behaviours, chose not to interrupt the Diarchs' conversation with the host of the summit - he could approach them during the main discussion just as easily.

'Slow your role, Barran.'

[Sip]

'Good things come to those who wait.'

Diarch Reign · Dec 1, 2025

Location: Wexbridge House
Tags: Tiber Septimus Cressida Tolliver Mykel Dawson Diarch Rellik Iandre Athlea Quolv Zyhvas Lodd Grimmin Luciano Merovain Helios Ardemark Severus Barran
Gear: Amulet of the Warden's Eye, Bladefather
Color Code: #B35432

As the clock began to chime the hour, the Diarch made his way towards the library. He had been aware of his brother's arrival and smiles softly to himself. Much of the Galaxy had preconceived notions of the Diarchy, with both Diarchs here, Reign hoped they would be able to put some of these to bed.

As he walked however, he could not help but notice Severus Barran. Taking a slight detour, Reign had to stop to comment.

"Lord Barran, is it not? I recently read your starting outline on "Surviving Galactic Tumult" and I would truly enjoy the opportunity to talk further. As we begin this conference, I shall save you a seat next to me. Should you choose to take it, I believe there is much we could discuss"

Bowing his head briefly in respect, Reign continued on to the library, awaiting further instruction from their host before taking his seat. (leaving one open on his right side for Severus should he choose)

Quolv Zyhvas · Dec 1, 2025

Severus Barran

OOC: I plan to have this NPC Senator assassinated so Quolv can replace him, when I have the time to.

Quolv Zyhvas was getting ever-angrier by the minute, and not due to his own occasional awkwardness or emotion-related clumsiness. As a Senator's Aide, he would have expected the Senator whom he worked alongside to have SHOWED UP by this point! The man had no sense of time whatsoever!

A good portion of the remainder of the hour found him apologizing to

Mykel Dawson politely, and he assumed the man noticed how frayed his nerves were, at this point. The Neimoidian was pacing back and forth, with his reptilian hands folded behind his back as he occasionally sighed and fidgeted with the sleeves of his robe. Every-so-often, the man's hands would tremble, even as they were locked in place behind his back. They had less than thirty minutes before the official summons would begin on the hour. Granted, in his stress and anger-prone state, Zyhvas himself hadn't accomplished much more than a few frustrated greetings and the slight venting of his anger, but he at least had the decency to arrive on time and make polite small talk! Zyhvas' DR-10-Series protocol droid hovered a few feet behind him, mimicking his motions, rather then recording the room. However, at this point, the Neimoidian was too angry to bother setting the droid back to his original task.

With less than ten minutes until the meeting officially began, the Neimoidian set his unfinished stress-drink on the platter of a passing attendant - if he drank anymore, he might end up saying something he'd only end up regretting later when the daft idiot he worked for actually arrived. Pacing just beyond polite conversational range near

Mykel Dawson , Quolv was half-tempted to grab another goblet, glass or some other container of alcohol to calm his rising stress, when the front door flung itself open with a resounding BANG!

The aforementioned daft idiot that Quolv Zyhvas worked for laughed wholeheartedly as he made his way in: a rotund, cheery-faced immensely-large Kel Dor man sporting an old-style plant-based laurel crown atop his alien head, for some reason, sauntered into the resort house like he owned the place, sporting the familiar sight of the species-specific breath mask and vocoder combo, as well as special goggles over his eyes, though his goggles and mask looked to be of expensive quality, shining with the bright yellow glow that only gold metal could produce. His blubbery, rolled skin was deep gray and pockmarked with nigh-black underlying veins and arteries, making him appear like a cracking statue from a distance. A tan-furred, blue-eyed and slim Bothan attendant with elegant blonde hair wrinkled her triangular nose at him as he made his way past her, nearly dropping the serving tray of crystal glass that she held in one hand; only the intervention of the Force's Light Side prevented her from doing so.

Upon his approach to the agitated, frustration-filled Neimoidian who was waiting for him, the Kel Dor took a moment to lift the pink-trimmed lime green robes he was wearing, flapping the hems as he laughed, the sound loud, even as it was muffled and electronic as he elbowed his assistant. "Sorry, the Nuna steak made one HELL of a comeback, if you catch my drift." The man tilted his masked and goggled head back, laughing electronically, an eerie sound that reverberated throughout the room, even as the ornate doors to the meeting area opened slowly and steadily to permit the guests to enter, at last.

The Kel Dor Senator from Bespin - one Daor (pronounced "Dower") Colgir elbowed his Aide - Quolv Zyhvas - sharply in his midsection with a fat arm, even as he used one greasy finger to harshly tap at the datapad that the Neimoidian produced from beneath his robe.

"Take down EVERYTHING for the record - you know the drill! And don't look so sour, Zyhvas!" His fat arm slapped the back of the Neimoidian's head. "You're lucky I take these matters seriously and allow you to tag along." The Kel Dor swatted at the hovering sphere of Quolv's protocol droid, leaving an unseen smudge on the droid's photoreceptor, "I still don't see why you need that damn droid to record things..."

"...For the record..." Quolv muttered tensely under his breath, a hand moving up to straighten his V-shaped headdress, while his other hand clenched into a fist behind his back as he followed the Senator into the official meeting room, motioning with his fist for the droid to continue recording everything from a moderate distance away, and NEVER within the sight of Senator Colgir of Bespin.

Severus Barran · Dec 2, 2025

TAGS

Alexandra Feanor

EMBASSY LAMENT
3

Wexbridge House, Near New Sterandel,
Aegis, Galactic Alliance Territories (903 ABY)

Interesting development, to say the least.
I haven't the foggiest clue why I thought that would be more difficult.

'Offer accepted.... I have just a few things to give a last once-over first, but I won't be long.'

After sharing nods of respect with the Diarch, the young Count would show early signs of wisdom, especially in the concerted effort not to leave a diplomatic peer's offer hanging; perhaps the result of good training, along with an innate self-disdain for taking too long in anything Severus would endeavour in life, but there was always the chance is was an early-warning instinct he inherited from both of his parents. This would certainly be perceived as such at the time, almost as if his occasional glances to a still-inactive datapad were expecting particularly ominous notifications, but he could neither place the why, the who, nor the how, and for some reason, this troubled the young Lion greatly.

Something was going on, and there was no way Severus could make an articulate, cohesive diagnosis of this feeling.

It was like that despair of watching over his homeworld for the last time, like Barran was backpedalling onto the off-ramp of his mother's TIE-interceptor all over again, but this time, that very same sensation was intesified tenfold. Becoming distraction enough to regular thought-processes that any and all last-minute once-overs were left undone, not even realizing that he was staring into space until he felt the need to unclench his teeth, snapping out of this terror-inducing premonition with heavy breath, sweat on his brow and the pain of having pressured the back of his bite too long. The young Lion would try to shrug it off, gather his datapad, and walk toward the library, even drinking the contents of his glass, patting the sweat from his brow, and fixing his bow-tie in the effort to appear professionally balanced in the eyes of the other attendees, to appear as unaffected as possible.

But sudden, quick-flashing visions of one man invaded his mind, smiling to near-sneering extreme as he glared through one, remaining eye, a face of which the young Lion had seen many times in his studies. Even showing face as a spectral torment in Barran's nightmares from time to time, almost as if this man's very existence had left a lingering curse-mark on his soul, and long before he was born, and to make life all the more difficult, Severus would need to live with the fact this very same man was his own uncle. A man he had never met before, but for all that the young Lion had learned of both lifespans, the more it reminded him of the stain it left on the renown of his family, for none could wash out that which had been blighted by the Bloodhound.

St. Thomas Barran, the scourge of civilisations, eternal thorn in the Lord Imperator's side.

Get your chit together, man.
Stay on-track, stay in the slipstream.

Dispel it, blot it out for now.

'So it begins...'

Diarch Rellik · Wednesday at 3:43 PM

The chime of the clock carried through the hall, and with it the subtle shift in movement as guests began to orient toward the library. Rellik turned slightly toward Iandre, his voice kept low and meant only for her.

"I'm going to step inside," he said quietly.
"Join me when you're ready."

No command in it. Just invitation. Iandre was strong, smart, and he trusted her with anything around anyone. She could be a delegate for any meeting. This one in particular he felt she was very suited for either way. He would go and await her within the library.

His attention drifted once more across the room as he began forward, and that was when he saw an interaction that caught his eye. Happening near where his Diarne was alongside Mykel.

The Neimoidian aide he had gathered named Quolv - who had been semi erratic as the meeting was coming to a start; had finally been accompanied by his intended superior. A Kel Dor senator on behalf of Bespin. He watched. Distain growing by the moment. The shove. The elbow. The careless slap. Authority wielded like a cudgel against a man already doing his job. It was this distinction that grew the divide between those who sought the Diarchy's sense of right and wrong against the Alliances.

Rellik's pace never changed, but something in the air around him did.

He followed the pair toward the open doors of the library, close enough that when the Neimoidian slowed for half a step, Rellik reached out and lightly tugged the edge of the man's cloak, just enough to draw his attention back for a heartbeat.

Rellik did not look at him at first.
His gaze remained locked on the Kel Dor ahead. A near fire beginning to glow in the usually light sand color of his golden eyes.

"Any man who feels the need to strike another who is serving him," Rellik said quietly, the heat in his voice utterly controlled, "is no man at all."

Only then did he turn.

The fire in his eyes softened, not extinguished, but tempered, into something steadier, kinder, as if he was looking at an old family friend.

"None need live like that," he said. "If you ever wish for a station earned by merit instead of greed or exploit, come to me."

A faint tilt of the head.

"There are places where dedication is rewarded, not exploited."

Rellik stepped past him then, moving into the library behind the Bespin delegation. As he went, his voice drifted back once, casual, almost nonchalant but edged like a blade.

"Men like that rarely stay in power forever." The Diarch shrugged as he said it. His words so laced that it was unclear if he meant in a general sense. Or if he meant that Rellik would personally see to it happening.

The murmur of the library and the people inside swallowed the rest of the sound as Rellik entered the room. His poise so relaxed as if the thought of what he just insinuated was nothing more than tending to his duties in general.

Cressida Tolliver

OOC NOTE!

- Anyone who would like to come sit next to your friendly neighborhood Diarch is welcome to.

@OPEN

Iandre Athlea · Wednesday at 11:15 PM

The chime of the great clock resonated through the entry hall, a soft reminder that the hour had come. Iandre adjusted the fall of her formal coat—deep slate-gray with silver detailing at the collar and cuffs —its understated style suggesting someone who preferred function but respected the dignity of the occasion. Her dark hair was neatly braided, her posture composed yet warm.

At Rellik's low words—"Join me when you're ready."—she met his gaze with a gentle, knowing smile.

"I'll be just behind you," she replied quietly, the phrasing soft but certain. It was not deference—it was partnership—choice, not obligation.

She let him move ahead, pausing only to acknowledge Senator Cressida with a polite nod and a murmured word of gratitude for the welcome. But as Iandre stepped toward the library, a disturbance in the room's tenor pulled her attention.

The resounding BANG of the doors. The Kel Dor senator's boisterous, oblivious entrance. The sharp elbow to his aide. The careless slap. The withering arrogance.

It was not the chaos of a battlefield, but cruelty—small, unnecessary, and telling—had its own signature, one she'd learned to recognize long before she ever touched a lightsaber.

Her expression did not harden, but it anchored. What she saw mattered.

Rellik's presence reached the moment before she needed to consider stepping in. He passed the pair with all the calm of a storm choosing its direction, his voice quiet but edged with truth. Iandre watched him speak—not for spectacle, but with an understanding of who he was beneath titles.

When the Neimoidian aide's gaze startled toward her, wide and embarrassed, she offered him a subtle inclination of her head. Not pity. Not intrusion. Simply recognition of someone trying to do their work under another's shadow. "Your diligence is seen," she said gently, her voice pitched only for him and his recording droid. "And it reflects well on you, no matter who stands in front of you."

The words were quiet, but sincere—support without overstepping, dignity without presumption.

With that, she moved to follow Rellik into the library, her steps composed, her attire catching the warm firelight as she passed through the threshold. She carried with her that same calm strength she had always held—but beneath it, the faintest current of steel.

Not all battles are fought with blades. Some are fought with presence. And she understood those just as well.

Severus Barran · Thursday at 3:56 PM

TAGS

Iandre Athlea

EMBASSY LAMENT
4

Wexbridge House, Near New Sterandel,
Aegis, Galactic Alliance Territories (903 ABY)

'Men like that rarely stay in power forever.'

Quite right, my good man,
Quite right.

Having caught a glimpse of the senator's abusive streak, Barran smiled to see Rellik's response, even going so far as to calm his own approach in it's wake; as the problem seemed to be solved, and even if only for a time, the Kel Dor's presence would remain tolerable enough for the meeting to commence and adjourn alike. All the more reason there to give an entirely different impression that night, though the young Lion himself was aware of his own, frowning disposition, too serious of late, and too much so to hold a lasting grin. Fortunate then that Severus always ended up being approachable after all, welcoming to a fault, much like his father, and when he sat to the Diarch's right-hand side.

'Greetings from Nirauan, sir. My father sends his warm regards, and I quote,"Extented toward both Diarchs.", so I'm guessing you made a good first impression.'

Little more than a whisper, though Barran was leaning his head inward at the time, opting for polite public decorum whilst other mutterings were thrown back-and-forth around the Imperial delegates at the time. It was then that Severus let that politeness take precedence, leaning back but also turning to meet the gaze of Rellik's apprentice, politely drawling,'Greetings, Ma'am.', with a respectful bow of his head. Yet more would be endeavoured with the attention-gained, as with the same head-involvement, the young diplomat cocked his head toward his own and the Diarch's general direction, tapping his ear with intent to divulge information between delegations.

'Lots going on here, lots going on in the Galaxy too.... Anyway; officially, I'm Count this-and-that, but when we're on duty,"Severus", alone will suffice - its a pleasure to meet you, sir.'

Tiber Septimus · Thursday at 6:28 PM

Tiber swept in the room, pausing slightly to avoid the swaggering, boisterous Kel Dor, entering the room with all of the subtly of a rancor. He made a note to sit far, far away from the man, as he entered the library, taking a seat. He waved down an attending, opting for a glass of ice water- cooler heads, and whatnot.

He observed Diarch's response to the Kel Dor, firmly putting him in his place, and his tension eased; for all the indications that the man touched the Dark Side, he was not for wanton cruelty. One could best gauge character by how they treated people he don't need.

He glanced over at the younger man,

Severus Barran . He stood out for a number of reasons, chief among them was that he wasn't affiliated with the Alliance- rather, an Imperial faction. His curiousity piqued, he decided to just ask

"Mr. Barren", Tiber said from his perch. "Once Senator, now- and always, I suppose- Tiber Septimus of Niahelios. Lord Relik" , he added with a nod of his head.

He focused on the Count and the Diarch.

"I'd love an outsider's perspective. The Alliance has been cracked. The Empire holds an iron grip on the Deep Core. What would you think are our optimal options?", Tiber opined, addressing them both.

Mykel Dawson |

Quolv Zyhvas |

Severus Barran |

Helios Ardemark |

Alexandra Feanor |

Cressida Tolliver |

Diarch Reign |

Diarch Rellik |

Lodd Grimmin

Iandre Athlea · Thursday at 11:14 PM

Iandre had taken her seat beside Rellik with the quiet poise of someone accustomed to reading a room before ever speaking into it. The tension, the shifting alliances, the brittle attempts at politeness layered over political discomfort—she felt all of it settle like thin frost along the edges of the meeting.

Severus Barran's respectful greeting drew her attention next. His bow was precise, his manner earnest, carrying both the weight of his lineage and the heaviness of whatever premonition had shaken him moments earlier. Iandre offered him a slight nod in return.

"A pleasure, Count Barran. Your reputation for diligence precedes you."

No flattery—just acknowledgment. And she sat a degree straighter as he glanced toward her, aware that having Rellik and herself at one side of the table shifted the center of gravity of the discussion.

When Tiber Septimus addressed them, his words cutting cleanly through the layered murmurs, Iandre listened first—attuned to tone before content, to the undercurrents of worry beneath the political phrasing.

The question was not hers to answer politically. But there was space here for clarity, for a measured truth.

She folded her hands lightly atop the table. "Senator Septimus," she began, her voice even, calm, "the situation you describe is one no single government can resolve alone. Fragmented responses will only deepen the fractures already forming."

Her gaze shifted gently between Tiber and Severus, then back to Rellik for half a breath—offering her insight without challenging the authority of those leading the discussion.

"If the Alliance is cracked, then it must decide whether it remakes itself—or whether it allows others to carve new borders around its weaknesses." Her tone softened, not unkindly. "The optimal option is cooperation. Not unity of ideology—just unity of purpose. Worlds standing alone will be consumed one by one. But those who coordinate, even loosely, can withstand the pressure the Deep Core is exerting."

A pause, the faintest breath before she added: "Survival rarely comes from holding ground. It comes from choosing your allies wisely, and early."

Not a sermon. Not a warning. A truth spoken from lived experience, war-won and war-lost, offered gently into the charged air.

Then she inclined her head slightly—an invitation for Rellik or Severus to take the political reins, as they were meant to. "The Diarchy is here because we believe there is still something worth preserving. And because none of us should face what is coming alone."

Tiber Septimus

Severus Barran

Severus Barran · Friday at 9:31 PM

TAGS

Alexandra Feanor

EMBASSY LAMENT
5

Wexbridge House, Near New Sterandel,
Aegis, Galactic Alliance Territories (903 ABY)

'I appreciate that.'

Briefly turning to Iandre, Tiber's introduction then caught the young Lion's attention, prompting a hushed, yet courteous reply of,'Well-met, Mr. Septimus.', bowing head once more as he trailed off to let the Senator and the Apprentice take the fore. In all arenas, the best means of contextualising intel were always found in the midst of summits of similar prestige, and in Barran's understanding of this benefit in diplomacy, maintained his perpetual intake of alternate perspective, achieved by merely listening in polite, curious silence. This way, as Severus often found already, many questions could be answered before the need for inquiry ever arose, and the Apprentice was fortunately opening with a solid drive at the right subject matter.

Close enough to the mark that Barran could not help but turn to Rellik so he could quietly quote the closing comment of his recent column, and adhering to polite, hushed tones, drawled,'It would seem we solved,"This will not do.", already.... I'll admit this much - I did not see that coming.', even catching himself grinning in the process. Hope was always such an addictive chemical after all, and the brain itself was ever the risky pusher, and as warm as this feeling made him feel, the young Lion had never allowed it to rule his heart. Suchlike feelings always had downsides if experienced too early in wartime, but with good company sitting around him at the time, Severus was fine with letting himself smirk, at the very least.

Turning then to Iandre and Tiber, Severus then realised the others would need context the Diarch already possessed.

'My apologies, this was just a reference to something that mirrored the initial question, and in turn, coincidentally mirrored the sentiments of the response as well.... As it would seem we've gotten a particular issue out the way already, stepping into diplomatic cohesion not seen since '63, and as far as I see it, the four of us are making a strong example of,"Optimal", here. A damn good start.'

Campaign Embassy Lament | Former GA Senators & Invited Diplomatic Visitors

More options

Severus Barran

"Young Lion"

Diarch Reign

Lord of the Diarchy

Quolv Zyhvas

Neimoidian Politician and Experienced Armorsmith

Severus Barran

"Young Lion"

Diarch Rellik

Lord of the Diarchy

Iandre Athlea

Ascending Legend

Severus Barran

"Young Lion"

Tiber Septimus

Prince of Niahelios

Iandre Athlea

Ascending Legend

Severus Barran

"Young Lion"

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